Speeding Ahead
by xXblinksXx
Summary: I don't know when he changed.  I wanted to help him, to help the man I had watched mature and grow, the man who had made me fall in love with him, little by little.   MxM Yaoi Lemon Rewriting.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own DN, if I did, Matt would still be alive, and Mello probably would be too. Ohba and Obata definitely own because Light's an asshole and Near has no personality whatsoever, which is rather annoying.

A/N I'm sorry for my language, it probably won't ever be cured. Also all measurements mentioned are in metric.

I don't know when he changed. Maybe it was when he found out that L died, and I just didn't notice it; or maybe he changed when they gave him the first name on his hit list. And, for the first time, I tried to find out the answer to my own question. I wanted to help him, to help the man I had watched mature and grow, the man who had made me fall in love with him, little by little.

I know that I would do anything to sway him from this case; to just let it be the way it is. One criminal controlling the minds of people, warping the way they would live their lives, _making_ them lead just and liberating lives, versus hundreds of thousands of petty thefts that would never be caught. It didn't seem so bad to me, but I knew Mello wouldn't stop going forward until something was abrogated, whether it be him or Kira. He was going to go ahead in this, faster than a flying bullet and never pausing to think of the consequences; never stopping to think of me.

I was thirteen the first time we acknowledged our feelings for each other. We kissed, our lips pressed against the each others, before letting our tongues intermingling and fighting in our mouths. I roamed every inch of his mouth with my tongue, not wanting to give him any excuse to disentangle himself from my arms, to back away from my touch. I loved him, even at thirteen years old, I knew exactly what love was, and my definition was Mello; the way he laughed, how he tried so hard to be ranked above Near, even the way he chewed on his lower lip when he came across the one problem that just would not work itself out. Less than a year after we shared our bed for the first time, sharing so much more than talk that night. The next morning he was gone, a speeding train out of Wammy's, and, what I presumed he thought, my life. I was informed only after his departure, in amongst the other orphans, that L had been assassinated. I didn't last long after Mello fled, the last ranking exam I took placed me just a few scores from the bottom. I got a lecture from Roger about not paying attention and how I needed to rid myself of the apathy that was ' consuming my mind and poisoning my reason'.

I don't think Roger thought I'd keep my lazy ways throughout my adolescence, but nothing seemed important to me anymore. The only things I ever made sure to do as quickly and efficiently as possible were the things Mello wanted done. Stalking that Misa girl, breaking into the NAPD database, all so that he could get his psychological fix by playing the good guy. It made me sick to think of what was going to happen if I ever slipped up and left a trail behind me. Although I figured that Near would probably cover my ass, simply because under that 'I don't give a flying fuck' attitude, I would bet that he'd give anything to have someone who actually cared about him.

"Matt, love, I need you to do me a favor. I need packages of military dynamite, and I need you to set explosive train so that when detonated, they won't demolish the central. I need those monitors to stay active for as long as I possibly can get them to." His voice had a mechanical buzzing sound to it through the phone. What the hell was he planning now?

"Mels, I don't know if I can-"

"Matty, please. Once this is over, I'll have what I need, and then we can finish this fucking bastard off. Kira will be vanquished, and then we can live whatever fairytale land your latest game has you hooked on. Right now, however, I need you to do me this one little favor." _"And for Fuck's sake, Jose, stop fucking around with that fucking pistol. You're going to shoot something, and then I 'm going to take it out of your pathetic Mexican ass."_

When he returned to the phone, his voice had the edge that told me that if I was going to stay on his good side, I was going to have to wire the States' headquarters. I was also going to have to figure out how to hack the U.S. Military's system, under the guise of being a supplier. Shit.

"I'll do it, but I need blueprints. I also need you to come back, so I can show where you need to be after I figure everything out."

"I know you can do it, Matt. There isn't anyone else who's like you."

I ended the call and lay back on the bed, my head was pounding already, like I'd just analyzed an entire reigning period of a Chinese emperor. I hated history, it never made any sense to me how illogical most human beings were. Even Mello had his moments when I wasn't sure what the fuck he thought he was doing.

Like now. But I had try to do this for him because if I didn't, he'd probably get pissed and leave. He'd probably hire some imbecile who knows nothing about building structures and can only hack, eat shitty microwave ramen noodles, and watch gay hentai on cheap porn sites. He would more than likely just be some loser who fell asleep on the couch I had transferred here, jerking his small dick off to the thought of _my _ Mello.

I exhaled as loudly as I could, meanwhile pushing myself off of the bed and I moved over to the mostly unused stereo in the corner. Mello hated American music; he said it lacked taste, intelligence, and class; but I loved the quick beats and the catchy, if not sophisticated, choruses. I spun the dial, and when the stations stopped changing, it landed on a rock station that played music from the 1970's and 1980's.

I snatched my laptop from its resting space on the stool next to the doors that led out to our cement balcony. It emitted a low humming sound as it whirred itself to life. I immediately opened my browsers, my proxies, everything that would hide me from the whitehats who were probably still looking for my ass after I unleashed a worm into a corporate machine's system.

I lost myself in the underground. The only place where people knew of me, and no one treated me like shit; they were too afraid to cross me. Coding was like another first language to me; it just felt so natural. I don't know when I started this, but I do remember using it to find Mello after he ditched me, keeping tabs on every single traceable thing he did. It worked then, and it works now.

The door slammed shut, and I ignored it; I couldn't allow myself to be distracted by him just yet. Cabinets with rusty hinges creaked open in the kitchen, and I typed in the address of the P.O. Box I had acquired in Santa Barbara, and I completed the order for his newest suicidal plan.

"Hey lover-boy."

The bed pressed down under his slight weight. I hit the switch on the side of my computer, and closed the screen. Wisps of blonde hair entered my vision, and I felt a hand resting on my shoulder. I straightened my back, feeling the bones in my spine creak and pop as I moved them to an upright position for the first time in hours.

"Hey, Mels. I have the explosives ordered for you, but why did I need to order them anyways? I coulld have had them made by the time they get here. Also, I need a copy of the blueprints."

"You'd blow yourself up. And if you need them, then go find them."

"Why the fuck are you so difficult. We both know that you have them somewhere in that hell hole of a building where you and all of your remaining Mafia rats and whores hide. Speaking of which-"

"She wasn't anything compared to you, Mattie. She just needed a good time."

Fuck. Not again. The last time he started screwing around with a hooker who was in need of a 'good time', he was gone for weeks at a time. Calling only when he needed me to do something for him.

"Mello, please. Don't do this again, not again. Don't leave me again, I'll find the blueprints myself, just don't desert me like you did a few months ago." I didn't care how desperate I sounded, I _was _ desperate. I couldn't have him ditch me again. I don't think I could survive it a third time.

"Come on, Matt. Stop acting like a pathetic little housewife. You mean too much to me for me to leave you for some common whore. I've told you time after motherfucking time, I was too busy trying to keep my men from getting themselves blown up. I never left you; I was a few miles away."

"That's bullshit, Mello. Why the fuck do you have to lie to me? I don't care that you did it, not anymore. I just.. don't leave me again."

I felt that pain spreading across my face before I even realized he had hit me. I think his gun was back in its holster before he realized it had made contact with my face.

"Matt-"

"Fuck. Off." I stood up from the bed, blood was dripping down my cheek, tracing a path down around my jawline. I strode out of the room, and down the stairs, laptop in hand. I climbed into the crappy little Chevy and made my way to a small park outside of another cheap apartment building.

Two little boys were playing on the dilapidated swing set. I put a cigarette between my lips, and watched them out of the corner of my eye as I lit the fag up and nicotine enriched smoke began to fill my body. The two kids were playing around, pushing each other sideways on the swings, before finally jumping off and chasing each other around the playground. A woman, probably the grandmother of at least one of the, came out and yelled for them, they turned around to the sound of her voice before scurrying inside the dingy brick building.

Mello and I used to act like that, back when we were confined to Wammy's. There was a playground outside. I liked to go lay out on the merry-go-round and play Mario on my beat-up little gameboy while Mello ran around, spinning in in circles and making it go faster and faster until he couldn't keep up with it anymore. He would jump on, making the entire structure lurch, and then we would lie back next to me, his infectious life spreading through the air like a common cold.

We would spin out of control almost every single time, and, on more than occasion, we would slide off the edge, falling on top of each other in a mass of childish limbs. Roger or one of the matrons would run over, making sure that we were both alright, only to walk away, shaking their heads at the immature wrecks we would become. That was the Mello that captured me, the one that I wanted back., the Mello I would do anything for.

I drove away from the tiny playground, my cigarette burned out, and my nostalgia starting to overwhelm my senses. I drove out of the main city, and after passing a few gas stations, I pulled into one and parked as far away from the road as I could get. I walked into the small, squat building and headed straight for the back where the restrooms were. I looked up in the mirror; dried blood caked to the left side of my face. Cursing under my breath, I started to clean it off. I hated head wounds, too much blood for even the most shallow of cuts.

I heard the door open, and I glanced up at the mirror. _Shit._ One of the Mafia lowlifes stood behind me, staring at my back. I pulled my goggles up from their place around my neck and turned to go, but I was stopped as a beefy hand grabbed my wrist.

"You, I know ya from somewhere. Where're ya from, Ranga?"

Shit. Think faster, Matt. "Britain," I said, pulling out the accent that I normally hid. "London, actually. I came to see some movie stars for myself."

"Ya sure, boy? I'm positive I know ya from somewheres. Ya been here to see yaself some movie stars before?"

"No, sir, I've never been to the States before. I arrived late last night." Shit. Shitshitshitshit_shit_.

"Well, in that case, why don't I show ya some of the stars you've been wanting to see."

_ Pull something out of your ass. Just think of something, anything. He knows who you are._ "That's very kind of you, sir, but I think I need to get back to my friend. I told him I couldn't wait until we reached the hotel to use the W.C. and he might be wondering whether I fell In or not.

_ Pi Pi Pi. Pi Pi Pi. _My phone rang from my pocket. It worked perfect for my cover.

"Hello?" I answered, hoping that Mello wouldn't be yelling at me, I couldn't have him slip this up for me. Greasy pigs like this loser wouldn't think twice before knifing me to get back at him.

"Matt, please, I didn't mean to, I wasn't thinking."

"Yeah, mate, I'll be back there in a flash. An American inside is being friendly and offered to show me around town."

"Matt, where the fuck are you?

"I'll be out to the car in about five minutes after I finish my conversation. Then we can keep going on north to the inn, and then we can see what we want to do."

The line disconnected. I turned back to the burly man behind me. He was staring at me suspiciously, but that wasn't any different from earlier.

"I've got to go. Charlie doesn't like to wait." _Five, four, three, two,-  
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The door bust open, and a pistol that still has tiny spots of my blood was shoved into the face of the man whose now released grip on my wrist had left a throbbing reminder of my close encounter.

I exhaled and then proceeded to leave the restroom and a pissed off Mello, get back into my car, and drive back to the apartment. I wasn't going o stick around to see what was going to happen, not like I didn't already know.

Mels' bike was fucked up, laying on the asphalt, but it was drivable. He could get home on his own. I didn't want to know who that freak was, or how close to Mello he would have had to have been to recognize me. No one knows who I am, except the woman who works as a cashier in the small convenience store on the corner near out apartment. She only knows me by site anyways; it was the closest place to get a pack of smokes, not to mention they never asked for age. Where else could a seventeen year old go in and buy himself a pack of cigarettes in the States? Fucking laws that self righteous bastards decided, I hated them all.

I climbed the stairs up to our landing, going as fast as possible and concentrating on not tripping, anything to keep me from thinking about what an ass I was for ditching Mello back at that gas station. I probably shouldn't have done that. What if he needed my help with something. _He could be hurt, all because you left him alone._

My lapse in concentration ended my sprint up the concrete stairs. I land with a loud thud and a painful sounding crack after my foot caught the corner off a step. I lifted my head off of the cheap polyester carpet that lined each landing. The door to our apartment was cracked open, and a stab of remorse pierced my stomach. Why'd I leave him alone? I pulled my pitiful self up off the ground, cursing as pain shot through my already bruised face from our earlier fight. By the time I reached the door, I heard the familiar rumble of Mello's bike pull up into the driveway, and the crunch of his boots across the gravel made me freeze in my place. I slumped against the wall next to the open door, and expected the worst from the blonde who stepped up onto our landing.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, otherwise it would probably be like this chapter through out the entire manga,

A/N: Please excuse me for the complete and unabashed smut that occurs in this chapter.

I don't know what the look was on his face when he stepped up onto the landing; I'd never seen it on him before. It was fear, remorse, panic, hatred and finally calm. I don't know of anytime where I had seen any of those but one cross Mello's face, and it seemed to happen quite a lot when Near was around.

"Matt," he said. His voice was barely a whisper, but I could hear it clear enough. He kept talking, but it fell upon my ears, and I never really listened. I could barely even register what had happened between us that day, let alone what he was about to say to me. Although, maybe if I listened it would take my mind off of everything.

I heard the clatter of the gun dropping out of his hand, onto the carpet covered concrete. He moved over to my side, kneeling so that his face was level with mine. I still avoided eye contact. I felt like a child who needed to be scolded yet was still afraid of the disappointment.

"Why do we fight so much, Matty? Why does everything we say turn into an argument?" his voice in my ear sounded just as desperate and lost as I felt, but Mello wasn't going to keep it that way for long. He used it like he used his gun nowadays, as a weapon. He would pull it out when he needed something, and as soon as his mission was completed, he would store it away for use the next time.

"Why can't you accept that you don't have to be first at everything, all of the time? Why don't you sit down and try to interact with me, instead of simply using me like you use your whores, as an outlet. Why won't you drop this fucking case? It's going to end up killing you, and, indirectly, me. Why can't we just get the fuck out of here and live like normal people do? I don't know Mels, why can't we stop fighting?"

"Matt-"

"And stop saying my name. You and I both know who I am, so just drop that bullshit. Talk to me, say what you want to say; don't put it off by adding bullshit words in front of it. Just... talk... Just talk to me."

"I need you, I need everything you can offer me. I don't know why we fight, all I know is that-don't cut me off again, I swear to God, Matt, don't fucking cut me off-all I know is that I can't drop this case. I can't let L down; all he ever wanted from me was to be able to make him proud, and I'd die before I fail him. I swear I would, Matt, and I know you don't feel the same way; you never did. You hated Wammy's, you hated the idea of it. You were always too slothful to even attempt to appease Roger or anyone else. Everyone else knew that you could have surpassed me; could have surpassed that fucking little albino prat if you had felt the urge to learn anything. You could have left us all in he dust, but you never tried. Why don't you ever try, Matt? W-why don't you ever fucking _try? _And as for me repeatedly dictating your name, I love the way it rolls from my mouth, ending in its staccato perfection. Matt... Matt, Matt, Matt. It's the best thing that I've ever been allowed to say; the best thing I've ever had-you."

"How did that cretin know who I was?"

"I don't fucking know. I barely even knew who he was- one of the lowest fuckers we have, even that fucker Jose barely acknowledges his existence. I don't know how he knew you, love, all I know is that neither of us are ever going to have to worry from any trouble out him again."

"Mels, there _have_ to be others who know who I am. They can't find out. No one can know me; that might just lead Kira right to me, and, in turn, to you. Not to mention, I have no fucking clue what you've been planning, and Kira would expect me to know. I _should_ know. If anyone should know about what you're doing, it should be me."

"Let's just go inside now," he said to me, looking up at me with those fucking eyes that pierced through me like glass. All resolve I had had to make him do what I wanted was gone; not that I should have really been asking for anything from him after he'd saved my dumb ass. Not to mention that we were arguing about this case outside of our apartment. Fuck. Why is it that I just becoming even more fucking stupid as the day went on? How the hell does that happen?

The apartment was trashed. Completely and absolutely demolished. Chairs were strewn across the floor and splinters of wood from the kitchen table were scattered around on the linoleum near the base of the buckled form that was once furniture. Mello walked past me, seemingly ignoring the disaster area and heading to the back where our room was.

"I'm assuming you know what happened, then," I muttered under my breath, half hoping he'd catch it, but not really wanting an explanation. I didn't get one; he'd already disappeared into the bedroom. I followed his trail back into that tiny cramped room. He was sitting on the bed, his hands laced through his silky hair with his face aimed towards the ground.

"Mello?" I questioned, but I knew I wasn't going to get an answer. I sat down on the bed next to him and wrapped my arms around his quivering frame. I rested my head on his shoulder, indulging myself with the scent of him, his leather, the cheap shampoo we shared, gasoline, chocolate, gunpowder, dust, deodorant, everything that juxtaposed to give my Mello a scent that had imprinted itself in my memory.

"We make for a good teenage angst movie." He had stopped shaking, and I felt his lips press against my hair for a fleeting second before he moved away. I looked up at his perfect face, his scorching blue eyes that burned through to my soul.

"So..." I began, not really sure whether I wanted to push the subject of why almost every room in our apartment was in a state of wreckage. "What happened to the anger management classes Roger made you take?"

"Fuck off, I hated those shit classes, and I still swear that shrink smoked more pot than you do cigs," he beamed at me, right before he pushed me down on the bed and kissed me.

Mello threw one of his legs over me, straddling my waist as he doubled his assault on my mouth. Not that I was complaining, I met his attack with complete enthusiasm as the muscles in our combined mouths wrestled for dominance of the kiss. He ground his pelvis into mine, eliciting an unwilling moan that was lost in our passion. He began nibbling on my lower lip, and I felt his hands start to roam my torso, pushing up the baggy long-sleeved t-shirt that I was wearing.

"Matt, I love you," he practically moaned into my ear before moving down to remove the troublesome material that obstructed Mello from his goal: me. The shirt was over my head and discarded haphazardly on the floor before I could even blink an eye, but it was my turn to take the lead. I grabbed Mello's foot, and dragged him closer to me before I moved up his leg and started to untie the laces. The bulge in his tight leather pants only seemed to grow larger as I became ever closer to be able to remove the pants that I adored seeing my Mello in. I disentangled the last knot int the laces with triumph before peeling the second skin off of his body, his half erection springing free from the tight confines of those smooth black pants. I looked up at his face before lowering mine closer to his manhood. He had a glazed, lust filled look in his eyes, and the mesh shirt and leather vest he'd been wearing when he came home from the base was nowhere in sight.

I opened my mouth, and moved his length around the edge of my mouth, drawing out an impatient moan from my lover's lips.

"Stop fucking teasing me, Mattie, just, God." he arched his back as I began swirling my tongue around the head of his dick, making his once semi-hard mast completely stiff. His chest moved up and down rapidly, moving with every breath and low moan he uttered as I started sucking and licking every inch of his throbbing manhood. I felt his fingers intertwine themselves in my hair, running themselves along the outline of my scalp, and he let out another moan as his back arched up off of the bed.

I moved my face away from him, sliding up the bed and I lay down next to him, yanking my jeans off as my torso made contact with the smooth sheets, warmed from where Mello's passion had warmed them. I pulled him closer to me again, waging war against his mouth as I ground my pelvis up against his. Loud moans began to fill the room as our hardened organs slid together. Mello's hand had found its way between our legs and was now aiding the feeling, egging on the noises that we were emitting.

"Fuck, M-Mattie, where's the- the lube? Fuck. I need you, Mattie, please."

"Shh, hold on. Give me just a minute; this feels so good."

I didn't want this to stop, not now, not ever. Especially not when I had him begging, but I supposed that I could only have him so close to the edge for a limited time. I leaned down to kiss him again as I reached towards the tiny little nightstand. I opened the drawer and pulled out a small container of Vaseline.

I dipped my fingers into the greasy mixture, coating my fingers in it before proceeding towards Mello's opening. I pushed my lubricated finger into his tight opening, eliciting a moan from my blonde lover as his tight ring gripped my digits. I began to slowly move in and out of his tight canal, making him buck and groan in complete and utter bliss. I added a second finger, and began to make scissoring motions inside of him, stretching out the dark tunnel to prepare him for even more.

I couldn't keep up this tortuous delay any longer. I remove my fingers from Mello's body and placed the head of my dick at his entrance. Slowly, I began to guide myself into his writhing body as I heard his voice shape my alias, over and over again. My body seemed to start moving on its own, completely free of my control. I pounded into my best friend, my lover, my Mello, and the sounds of our lovemaking filled the apartment. He moved his hand down to stroke himself and the sight of his desperation made me crazy. I couldn't hold out for much longer, and, as I exploded inside of him, I felt his hot, molten love splash against my chest.

"Mail, oh motherfucking God, Mail. Mail, Mail, Mail." He leaned up and kissed me again, his mussed blonde hair forming a curtain around our panting faces. I pulled him down back onto the bed again, and wrapped him in my arms.

"When did you decide that you wanted to use my real name?" I said, a small smile playing on my lips.

"I'm not sure, probably after you screamed mine at the top of your lungs like a thirteen year old girl." He cuddled his face into my chest, making me ache to hold him even tighter to me.

A small buzzing sound emitted from the far corner of the room. Mello looked up and removed himself from the bed, striding quickly over to the pants that I had tossed across the room earlier. He was beautiful, even when the frown lines crossed his face and he scowled at nothing in particular.

"I have to go, love." He looked back at me, and his eyes, which moments ago had been so full of love and emotion, were completely flat, like a pond frozen over in the dead of winter. This was _not_ happening again. I didn't want to show it though. I wasn't some lovesick teenage bitch, and I wasn't going to let anyone affect me like this, not even Mels. Especially not Mels. I watched him pull his pants back on, lacing up the front as he searched around the room for the other remains of his scattered outfit.

"What did they do wrong his time?" I asked him, wary of the answer I might get.

"The President is in captivity, I have to move as quickly as possible to avoid getting fucked over by the FBI. Fucking pricks."

"Wait. You have the President, as in the president of the U.S of fucking A. captive? You kidnapped the President?"

"Yeah. I needed the attention of the NPA. It worked."

"Remind me that I never want to really know what you are doing again."

"I'll do that, but now I have to go before one of those incompetent cretins does something to fuck the operation up."

"I love you," I called out, but he was either out of ear shot or chose to ignore me because I didn't receive an answer. And I wouldn't receive an answer from him for another two weeks. A day or so after he left, a news report caught my eye as I was flipping back to the HDMI output. It was announcing the death of the President. Either things had gone perfectly or had completely fucked up for Mello. I had no way of knowing; the only phone of his that I had the number to was the one laying on the dresser in the corner. I stayed inside all the time, spending my time on missions sent to me by other grey hats and playing video games. I worked on setting up the locations for the dynamite, even though I still wasn't quite sure whether He needed them still or not, and when I was finished, I emailed them to one of his accounts that he checked at least once an hour. I wasn't surprised that there wasn't a reply to that either. I beat each of my video games several times; even though I wasn't really able to get into them like normal. I felt like a ghost, like an outer shell of the Matt who used to exist back when Mello was real, too.

The call came around fifteen, and as soon as I saw the number, I knew who it was. I picked up the phone in the middle of the third ring, not wanting to let him know how much I wished he was back here again. When I answered it, there was no reply, just a small cracking noise, followed by a series of short gasps. I held it up to my ear as I grabbed the car keys and strapped my goggles to my face, suctioning them to my face and puling the strap over my greasy, unwashed hair. I put the keys in the ignition of my Camaro before I even knew where to go.

"Ma..tt... help..sorry...fuck...it hurts..Matt..."

"Mels, where are you? "

"Alley... behind..H.Q. Matt...please...my face...fuck...Matt."

"It's okay, I'm almost there. Stay awake with me, okay? Just stay on the phone."

"Watch..pops.."

Fuck. The police were the last thing I needed, no, The last thing Mello needed. What had he done? I pulled up through the back alley, with no sign of my Mello in sight. The side mirrors in my car barely fit between the tight walls of the small backstreet. Right when I pulled past a neglected green door, I caught a flash of blonde hair. Mello was laying against the wall; his hair matted to the right side of his face. I backed up out of the alley, knowing that there was no physical way for me to be able to get in into the car safely. I parked it and ran back to Mello, noticing the full extent of the damage for the first time. The entire right side of his body was burnt, the leather melted to his skin in some places and completely burned off in others. The acrid smell of charred flesh was heavy, and the noises that he was making were unintelligible.

"Mello, shh. It's okay, I'm here now, I'm going to make everything alright. I'll make the pain go away, but we need to get away from here." We were only a few hundred feet away from where Mello hid away with his men, and by now I was certain that the dynamite had been put into use. The place was crawling with cops, and soon enough, Near would get here and that was another shitload of issues I didn't need to be in the middle of. I picked Mello up gingerly, trying my best to support him and avoid his injured side all at the same time and carried to the car, setting him gently in the back, and securing him with the safety restraints and a spare blanket or two that had formed a habit of keeping in there back when we couldn't keep our hands off of each other.

I carried him all the way up the stairs when we reached the apartment, ignoring my weedy, protesting body. I cut strips out of t-shirt that I had never worn before, not having time to run to the convenience store down the street with the old lady who thought I was the greatest. In less than half of an hour, with the help of the Internet, I had most of the few remaining scraps of fabric from his body and cleaned it with an alcoholic based liquid, inwardly hating myself more and more every time he winced or whimpered in pain. By the time the sun had gone down, every single part of his body that had been damaged was cleaned and wrapped. I set out all of the narcotics that had been acquired by Mello and me, making sure to keep them within reach in case he woke up and was able to take them.

By he time morning came around, I had gone down to the corner and purchased as many medical supplies as I could find, and began preparing to redress his burns. I kept this routine up for a week, watching him slip in and out of consciousness and keeping a very close eye on his injuries to check for any signs of infection. I must have gotten lucky; none ever developed. When he woke up, he wouldn't look at me, and I could barely get him to drink even a sip of chocolate milk, let alone water. I practically gave up smoking for those days, I didn't want a cigarette badly enough to leave his side. I didn't want anything bad enough to leave his side.

He was literally up and around in a little under a month, and when he started talking again, I thought that nothing in the world would be able to make me happier. I was wrong. The morning I woke up in my bed, with him sitting next to me, with his blonde hair pulled back up into a messy ponytail, that was the day I knew I had my Mello back. My Mello who grinned at me, despite the obvious pain it caused him, and told me that nothing was ever going to take us from each other again. My Mello who was already speeding ahead again, trying to beat out the competition before they even knew about he race. That was the day when he stopped caring about the scars that were never going away, and that was the day that he promised to quit this ideal of being 'L'. That was the day I knew everything was going to work itself out for us because the universe had to give us a good card every once in a while.

2nd A/N Okay, so I probably won't ever say this again, but I'd really like feedback on this one... first real lemons are... nerve wracking. So I'd REALLY like feed back on what you thought about it.


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